Not Your Typical Event
by PostitPromise
Summary: Luka becomes entangled in the web of a dangerous unsub. Can the BAU team figure out how and why she survived and find a way to stop the unsub before it's too late ?


**Not Your Typical Event**

I realized what was happening before Mark did. I grabbed the wheel in an attempt to diverge it away from the oncoming vehicle, but as I pulled the wheel to the right, the vehicle spun out and stopped. The car was now sideways, with the passenger side about to be hit directly by the SUV speeding at us. I was sitting in the passenger side.

It was like a slow-motion movie scene after that point. The car sped up even more, as I desperately attempted to unclip my seat belt. I succeeded, but it was too late. The car slammed into ours, T-boning us essentially. I had leaned left, but the effect was opposite, as was undoing the seatbelt. My head continued left before slamming right again, into the window, shattering it. Due to the fact that I was unhindered by the belt, my whole body went with it. The SUV was still driving, propelling us down the roadway at a frightening speed. Mark was screaming his head off, but I couldn't see how badly he was hurt, blood was covering my eyes. My whole face felt wet with the stuff, I could feel it coating my hands as I tried to subdue the profuse bleeding. The other vehicle suddenly jerked to a stop, backing it off of the one I was sitting in. My car skidded, rolling up and onto its left side, the side where Mark was sitting. I looked over in horror as my cousin's head smashed into the concrete with a sickening thud. I was gripping the door handle with white knuckles on my side, because if I didn't, I would drop onto Mark. The level of pain I felt was excruciating, my head had smashed into the windshield at one point, as well as the window. My hip felt like someone had stomped on it, and the amount of blood I was losing at the moment was unbelievable. I was screaming, louder than any sound I'd ever heard, besides the shatter of glass and shredding of metal I had witnessed a few minutes before. I knew I had to get out of the car, I just didn't know how.

Mark was unconscious now, I had to get him out of the car as well. In order to do that though, I needed a way out myself. The door to my right was completely smashed in, obviously. The windshield was still intact, and the car was still laying on its side, preventing me from getting out on the opposite side. I was not about to wait for emergency responders to arrive, as long as I was alert and able, I needed to help my older cousin. I used the small fracture in the windshield in front of me to break the whole thing, by using Mark's ashtray. I climbed carefully through the newly established opening. I pulled Mark out, cautiously and stably, to prevent further injury. I could finally hear the sirens in the distance, after what seemed like an eternity, but in reality was only five minutes. I checked Mark's pulse, he was tachycardic, probably due to his loss of blood. There were glass fragments everywhere on his face and side. I feebly tried to stop the bleeding on his head, where it was most prominent. I removed his shirt and used it to apply pressure to the wound. I did the same for me, leaving only my used-to-be-white cami underneath, now crimson in color. Both of my hands were now occupied, so I couldn't signal the cars that had arrived. About five men stepped out of two large black Escalades, rushing toward me. The ambulance followed suit, rushing over to me as well. The men wore bulletproof vests with FBI printed on them. My eyes remained on them as the EMT's finally reached me.

A middle-aged paramedic with pale green eyes reached me first. "No, no, save Mark, save him. He's in worse shape than me. He's a better person than me. He's tachycardic, he's losing too much blood. Please. Please." I begged him, my hand still trying to stop the blood pouring from his wounds. He ignored me, and instead pushed my hand aside and examined my wound. He motioned for someone to bring over the stretcher. One of the FBI agents, a solemn dark haired man, did as he was asked and wheeled it over. The green-eyed guy lifted me effortlessly onto the rolling stretcher, but I struggled. "I can wait ! Seriously, he's losing too much blood, stop the bleeding. You have to stop the bleeding." I kept begging him, but to no avail. "Sweetie, there's been a lot of accidents today, I'm the only paramedic available right now, I'll do what I can. But you're top priority." "The victim with the most injury is top priority, and that's not me." The FBI guy was trying to keep me calm, but I was not having it. I didn't understand what was going on; why was the FBI involved, and why wouldn't anyone help Mark ? His injuries were obviously much more life-threatening than mine… what was the big secret here ?

Hotch's POV  
"Guys, we got a call. Our unsub just struck again." This case was unlike anything they had ever seen before. The unsub's M.O. was colliding head on with other vehicles, using his large SUV. What they hadn't been able to figure out yet though, was his motive, and how he was able to survive the crashes when the other victims couldn't. How had the unsub managed to claim so many vic's in such a short amount of time, and survive that many car crashes ? His car had to be able to blend in with the public, but there must be something different about it that makes it able to withstand such force. Morgan broke his reverie. "-tch. Hotch ?" "What ?" he asked, turning from his place in the passenger seat of the black squad car to face Morgan. His brawny co-worker was questioning him about the amount of ambulances in the area. Had he forgotten to inform them about the case ? The stress of the unknown of this particular case was really getting to him, already. "The unsub is using his vehicle as his weapon of choice, he's already claimed eighteen victim's today. There appears to be no correlation between the vic's, the vehicle's weren't the same, and the passenger's were completely different. We're headed to a crash site right now, it just happened." There's only one local ambulance left in the area right now, they're on their way now." "Eighteen victims ? Damn, this guy doesn't waste any time." Morgan commented in disbelief. "The amount of victim's portrays that the unsub has a lot of rage." Reid said. Hotch faced forward, realizing Reid was right. Hotch sighed, this was going to be a long day, with a lot more victim's to come.

As they arrived at the scene, Hotch jumped out of the car, unable to believe what he was seeing. A young girl had survived the crash ! She was holding a pile of cloth to her own head as well as to the head of a man laying on the ground unconscious. She was completely covered in blood, and the car behind her was laying on its side, the windshield busted out and the right side completely smashed in. A paramedic was rushing up to her. She was saying something to him, but he didn't know what. The medic motioned for him to retrieve the stretcher and bring it over. He did, wondering what Morgan and Reid were doing at the moment. The paramedic lifted the young girl onto the stretcher, as she argued with him. She was actually telling him to help her friend first ! Hotch shook his head in disbelief, and tried to calm the girl down. She was inconsolable. The girl looked at him, and her piercing green eyes seemed to look right through him, as if she knew this wasn't just a typical hit and run.

"Everything will be okay in the end. If it's not okay, it's not the end."~ John Lennon

**Chapter One- The Beginning of it All**

Luka's POV

"I'm in shock, I'll last longer than him. Why won't you listen to me ?" I demanded to know. We were in the ambulance now, and the paramedic introduced himself as Jim, and the FBI sir introduced himself as well, as SSA Aaron Hotchner. Jim had to ask Agent Hotchner to drive, because he needed to tend to me. My head was throbbing as he mopped the blood off of it. He then inserted an IV drip, and placed an oxygen mask over my face. We sped toward the hospital, and I fought the urge to laugh. You know when something unexpected happens, or a situation in which everyone around you is really serious, and you just stop and think, and want to laugh, just to relieve the pressure ? I quickly sobered though, as I thought of my cousin. He was my guardian ever since my parents had died four years ago, when I was eleven. If he didn't survive this, I didn't know what I had in this world anymore…

"What is your name ?" Jim enunciated to me, getting right in my face. "Luka Sommers. The shock hasn't worn off you know, I'm not incompetent just yet," I told him, taking off my oxygen mask. Jim replaced the mask quickly, and I rolled my eyes. When we arrived at the hospital, Agent Hotchner jumped out and opened the doors. A trauma team was waiting for me. I felt like I was on a hospital drama as I was rushed down the hall by a team of doctors, with a neck brace on, looking up at the bright fluorescent lights as they flashed by.

My gurney was rolled into a secluded room, with no other occupants. A team of two doctors and a nurse worked over me, inserting IV's checking blood pressure, taking and recording my pulse. Someone must have pushed a lot of morphine into my system, because I drifted into a blurred, hazy state.

I woke up and blinked strongly, jumping at the sight of people seated around my bed. 'Ahggg !" Was the jumbled sound that escaped my mouth after seeing them. I scooted the opposite way in my bed, away from the strangers. One, I recognized as Agent Hotchner, but the other two, I vaguely remembered seeing, but not being introduced to.

The three men were all very good looking, one was tall, dark, handsome and muscular, with mocha-colored, expressive eyes. The other was the complete opposite, still tall, but with chin length, messy hair, and he was thin almost to the point of an emaciated look. He had big, childlike hazel eyes, and was dressed rather nerdily. I found him to be adorable. "Sorry to scare you," The muscular man told me, patting my hand. "This is SSA Derek Morgan and Dr. Spencer Reid," Agent Hotchner told me, pointing first to the big guy, then to the guy with long hair. Dr. Reid gave a little wave, and Agent Morgan gave me a sympathetic smile. I laughed, a delirious-sounding chuckle. "Wow," I said, looking down at my IV drip. "They gave me a lot of morphine !" I felt high on the drugs, a sensation I had never experienced until now. They looked at me with concern as I laughed. "I need you to be serious," Hotchner told me, whom I'm convinced doesn't know how to be anything other than serious. Turning to him, SSA Morgan said, "Hotch, don't you think she should rest ? She almost died, after all." He ignored him, instead turning to me," What did the driver of the other car look like ? His appearance is very important to our case-file." I sobered up quickly. "He had a really defined jaw-line, and he had spiky blonde hair, and….brown eyes. He was smiling, his front teeth were crooked, and his car was a big, white SUV. The seat-covers they were…..blue. Blue with like, white detailing…" They all stared at me, open-mouthed. "You're um….observant." Dr. Reid said. "Yeah…." I said, confused on why they were all looking at me with the same expression, like I was some kind of alien life form. Abruptly, Agent Hotchner left the room. "He's rude." I commented to the two remaining agents. "Gets what he wants then gets the hell out. Geez. It's not like I almost joined Elvis or anything…" "He's just doing his job. Hang in there kiddo," Agent Morgan told me, leaving the room as well. Thankfully, sexy Dr. Reid stayed.

I fiddled with my IV, until Reid's big hand stopped mine from playing with it. I rolled my eyes, scanning the room for my chart. It was conviently located on the other side of my bed, on the cheap, white plastic nightstand to my left. I pulled it onto my lap, scanning it for my prognosis; a severe concussion, two broken ribs, a cut requiring stitches on my forearm, and a small laceration on my forehead. "What are you doing ?" Dr. Reid asked me, sounding slightly alarmed. "Reading my chart…no one told me what my injuries were, so I got it covered. Chill." He gave me the same puzzled look I had come to expect from him. "I don't understand you at all," he told me. "You shouldn't be so….calm, so collected. You shouldn't be able to remember the accident so well…..do you remember the accident ? " he questioned me, but didn't pause for an answer. "You shouldn't…know things that you know…" he seemed at a loss for words to summarize the list of things that I should not be doing, and I had a feeling that was uncharacteristic for him. Also, it was probably a safe bet that it was unusual for him to be associating so personally with a victim, and his utter confusion was most likely unlike him as well. It was ironic to be sitting next to a profiler, profiling him. "What happened to Mark ?!" I finally asked, the question I had been dying to spit out. Just then, the doctor entered the room, and Agent Reid left awkwardly, slowly backing out of the room. The doctor asked me how I was feeling, and I couldn't help but reply dryly, "Like I've been hit by a car." He chuckled, then checked my vitals. He pulled up a chair beside me, and before I could inquire about my cousin, he looked at me sadly. "Your cousin, Mark. He's…..well, he's been paralyzed by the accident." I detected the hidden meaning in the grief of his words; Mark was my legal guardian. Being paralyzed deemed him an unfit caretaker; I was now essentially an orphan.

"In the face of what we can lose in a day, in an instant, wonder what the hell it is that makes us hold it all together."~Grey's Anatomy

**Chapter Two- ****Hell on Earth**

I had been interviewed by countless policeman and FBI agents alike, all demanding the exact same version of the story. Agent Hotchner and his team gossiped about the case in a cluster at the foot of my bed, apparently thinking they were quiet enough so that I couldn't hear them. They were wrong. I listened intently, discovering the reason for all of this; the guy who had collided with Mark and I was a serial killer. He had killed eighteen other victims, Mark and I were the only survivors.

I had only spent a couple of hours in the hospital, and it was hell. The accident had happened at noon, and it was now four o'clock. They refused to serve me coffee, I had nothing to write or type with, and I was in a hospital gown with hot men in my room, probably looking like a troll. As if to top it off, a nurse came in looking for my chart, snatching in angrily out of my hand. I rolled my eyes, since when was it a crime to be interested in the medical field, in your own life at that ? Two more nurses entered the room, one male and one female. The kind female handed me a tray of food, and the male orderly had brought chairs for the agents. Three agents left to go to Mark's room, and four stayed in mine, including the three agents I knew, then a woman who I gathered was Agent Prentiss. She looked like she could kick some serious ass. The agents talked relentlessly, never looking up from their work. They never even noticed me staring at them, studying them. I tore my eyes away from the ever-present, adorable Dr. Reid, looking at the "food" the nurse had handed me. It consisted of what I assumed were mashed potatoes, some kind of meaty lump, and a completely scorched to a crisp brownie in a cheap, black plastic container. The meat had eyes, and the mashed potatoes were about as viscus as water. I shoved the over-the-bed tray away, towards my left. The arm holding the tray up squeaked, alerting the agents. All conversation halted, and they turned to me. I was fooling with my IV again, and I looked up to find them all staring disapprovingly at me. "You have to eat, you need to gain your strength," Agent Prentiss told me, as if I didn't already know how weak my injuries had made me. I lifted the spoon, gathering some "mashed potatoes" and letting it slide right off the spoon, showcasing the genuine repulsiveness. "I'm not eating this slop !" I said. "I've seen air with more shape than these mashed potatoes !" I became acutely aware how stuck up I sounded, but I felt entitled to a little bitchiness. I hadn't asked for this, I hadn't asked for any of this.

Hotch's POV

This case was intense. The unsub had essentially mass-murdered eighteen people in one day, and he was still on the loose. I established a time frame with my team; it appeared he would only specifically strike from nine AM to 12PM each day. It was impossible to tell if that was indeed accurate yet though. We would need to wait until the unsub struck again.

It was a long day for all of us, each one of my team members struggling to come up with a motive, and a reason for the MO. Like earlier stated, this case was like nothing we had ever seen. The only conscious victim was a young girl of about fifteen, Luka Sommers. I had been in her room all day, and she was handling the stress of the accident and her injuries remarkably well. She had been able to identify the vehicle used by the unsub, as well as he appearance, Yet the police still hadn't caught him. Something else was going on here, I just couldn't determine what.

"In a time of universal deceit, telling the truth is a revolutionary act." ~ George Orwell

**Chapter Three- A New Face**

Luka's POV

That night, around seven o'clock, a woman I didn't know entered my room. I looked at her briefly, before turning away," Get out." "Hi, I'm-" She started to say, but I cut her off. "Get out." I told her again, my words not steely, but calm and direct, almost business-like. I had a right to my privacy, I had to deal with things on my own. I didn't care if this point if people thought I was a bitch, when they got into a car accident caused by a psycho who was still on the loose, then lost the only person they had, they could talk to me about it. Until then, no one could understand what I was feeling, and I felt that I was entitled to a little anger. I needed to feel something other than pain right now.

The woman didn't leave. She merely pulled a chair up to the foot of my bed, writing something down. She wore a gray pencil skirt with a white blouse tucked in, and a light cotton, black cardigan. I could tell, for obvious reasons, that she wasn't a doctor, at least in that sense. I snorted softly so that she couldn't hear. She was a psychiatrist.

I don't believe in psychiatrists, I think they are cheesy and get paid too much to try and get inside your head. But in the end, no one knows you better than yourself. No one can know what you're really thinking but you. I had two ways I could play this; I could make a bunch of shit up to get her out of here, I was an excellent actress. Or, I could totally ignore her and let her think she had me all figured out. I opted for the latter, because chances were that after a while, she would get tired and give up, and become frustrated. "Hello, I'm Dr. Hammon.." What a ham, I thought to myself, joking of course. I stared at her blankly. "They tell me you haven't been eating, would you like to tell me why ?" I kept my face blank again, not showing any emotion at all. I was careful not to do a blank, I-don't-care-at-all stare, or a zoned out stare, just a regular one. Let her think that I was vulnerable, or angry, or depressed. And besides, me refusing one meal is not that big of a deal. She continued trying to coax answers out of me, never assuming anything, which pissed me off a little. Finally, I started to blatantly ignore her, choosing instead to write in my notebook. She finally got up and gently pried the notebook from my hand, looking curious after I didn't reply on what I was writing. She knitted her eyebrows together, obviously confused. I wasn't an idiot, I had written everything backward.

I knew at some point someone, somewhere in the hospital would attempt to read what I had written in the notebook given to me by Agent Gideon. I also knew that no one would figure out it was written in code, except maybe one of the agents, after a while. I had thought about just scrambling the letters, but the human brain can decipher almost any word as long as the first and last letters are in their correct places. I almost couldn't hide my smile as Dr. Hammon returned my notebook and left the room. I felt satisfied that I had tricked someone with a doctorate degree. I was also satisfied that she had not been able to realize what I had written about; Mark.

Dr. Hammon's POV

I entered the room of my new patient, a young teenage girl who had been targeted by a highly sought-after serial killer. Her case was particularly difficult, because not only was she injured herself, but her caretaker as well. Not to mention, she would probably be ridden with survivor's guilt, all of the other victims of the killer had not survived. I walked in, ready to introduce myself when she immediately told me to get out. I attempted to tell her my name, when she interrupted me, once more telling me to leave. So that's the kind of case this is gonna be, I thought.

The whole session was very difficult. She gave me nothing, she never spoke after that. She only stared at me, with expressionless eyes. It was a little unnerving, to have someone stare at you for an extended period of time without communicating. I kept my cool exterior though, until she finally turned her attention away from me. I wiped my eyes as soon as she directed her gaze elsewhere. I had just gotten out of school, this was only my third case. I had planned to start out primarily by counseling hospital patients, but now I wasn't so sure. She scribbled furiously in a notebook, never looking up at me again. I casually walked up to her, gently taking the notebook from her. I stared at the pages; not only was her writing loopy and unusual, but I couldn't understand it. It almost looked as if it wasn't even written in English. I set it down, hurrying out of the room; I wouldn't let her see that she had broken me.

I hurried down the hall towards the bathroom, ready to cry in a stall. I walked past one of the FBI Agents on her case, Agent Morgan. He looked at me with concern as I passed him, then he hurried into her room, shutting the door behind him. I broke down once inside the bathroom. Who knew helping people would be so hard ?

"Although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of overcoming it." ~ Helen Keller

**Chapter Four- Bloody Outcome**

Luka's POV

Not two minutes after Dr. Hammon had left, agent Morgan returned, looking slightly angry. "What did you do to her ?" He demanded. I feigned innocence," To who ?" "Cut the bull-crap, she was only trying to help. Now she's in there crying, because of whatever you said to her." I looked at him, piercing him with my eyes. "Now I know it wasn't me, because I didn't say anything at all to her." He looked at me with mild disgust, leaving the room, shutting the door roughly behind him.

I sighed, feeling groggy from all of the medication I had been recieveing. I gave in, laying down, snuggling under the covers. A while later I heard a nurse come in and check my vitals, then leave quietly and shut the light off. The constant beeping and whirring sounds of the hospital were quite annoying, and did nothing to aid my sleep. I woke up and checked my phone, which had been given to me sometime earlier, and the time was four in the morning. In the light of my phone screen, I could see some type of liquid covering my right hand. My hand felt sticky, as did my pillow. Shining the light on both items, I bolted upright, almost accidently ripping out my IV tube. The substance was blood. I press the 'help' button near my bed, trying to determine where the blood ran from. My nose, I suddenly realized. This was not a good sign, it meant I could have intra-cranial bleeding, causing encephalitis, the swelling of the brain. I tilted my head back, pinching my nose, to cease the bleeding. A doctor, followed by a nurse, rushed in. The light was flicked on, and for the first time I noticed the capacity of the blood. My gown was soaked from about my collarbone to my third rib, and the blood saturated the pillowcase and even collected a little on the floor next to the bed. The nurse gasped, her hand flying to her face. The doctor paged someone else to assist, and he quickly prepared me for transport. The nurse collected herself and inserted some type of pale pink liquid into my IV bag. My bed was tilted up more so that I was in a sitting position. "Good," the doctor told me, telling me to keep my head like that. The nurse opened that door, and the doctor, Dr. Stevens, began rushing my bed down the hall. On the way by, I caught a glimpse of the agents turning to look at me, looking concerned. I wondered why they were still here...then I heard it; a paramedic talking to Hotch-" Two more victims, both DOA. We believe it was your guy again."

My attempted murderer was still out there, killing more victims. Lucky me to have survived.

They put me in a cat scan machine, and that's the last I remember. When I woke up, I was in a different room, my gown was a different color, and I was intubated, which I was pissed about. At least now I didn't HAVE to talk to Dr. Hammon, because I was physically unable too. I was smart enough not to fight the intubation, so I instead looked around for my chart. They had evidently gotten smarter, because this time, it wasn't to be found. My phone was gone, so I had no idea how long I had been out. I was pretty sure it was a day after my accident, which had been about noon yesterday, which had been a Wednesday. This room had two windows, one looking outside into the parking lot, where rain was pouring down, and one looking into the hospital, at a big desk and a bunch of chairs against the wall. Potted plants dotted the corners, and coffee tables with health brochures were strategically placed in front of every third and fourth chair. Pastel watercolor paintings hung on the walls, and I could barely make out a blue plastic sign with white lettering on the wall behind a row of chairs; ICU.

Hotch's POV

I stayed at the hospital with Morgan, Gideon, and Prentiss, while Reid, JJ, and Rossi went back to headquarters to continue the case file. We had stayed because we wanted to interview the victims more, and apparently two more victims would be arriving shortly. It was four in the morning, and none of us had slept since the night before, and even then we had all arrived to work at about 8am. Everything we knew about the unsub thus far was jumbled, and we had evidently gotten the time frame wrong. A paramedic approached me, stating "Two more victims, both DOA. We believe it was your guy again."

Morgan looked pissed. "I can't believe we haven't caught this guy yet. His crimes are so careless, how are these people not seeing a large white SUV repeatedly ramming into people with his vehicle ! Why isn't anyone reporting having seen this vehicle, he can't possibly be that stealthy." Gideon looked at him, placing a hand on his shoulder," He is making a significant amount of killings, he has to mess up sometime. He's gonna get careless, his drive for the kill is too passionate. We'll catch him." I said nothing, simply keeping my lips set into a hard line.

Just then, a beep erupted from one of the rooms near us, and a doctor and nurse rushed in. The nurse gasped, then shut the door behind her. Suddenly, a hospital bed burst out, pushed by Dr. Stevens. He rushed past us with the young girl victim who had survived. She was covered in blood, but she seemed alert and gave us a curious glance on her way by. I sighed again, sitting in one of the hard plastic chairs across from her room. Gideon went to retrieve coffee, and Derek sat beside me, sighing as well.

"Don't wonder why people go crazy, wonder why they don't."~Unknown

**Chapter Five- Much too Much**

Luka's POV

Hotch, Gideon, and Morgan all peeked into my room, looking through the window I had just been looking out of. I turned away, instead looking out at the gray, rainy day. "I'm very glad you're alive," Hotch told me, stern as ever. "Woo-hoo, me too," I stated flatly. Gideon and Morgan exchanged looks. I was sure that the motive behind his words was that I was important to his case, and nothing more. I had no one now, and why should that surprise me ? No one since my parents but Mark had ever wanted me. I was just another victim on a case he needed to solve, I was an asset and nothing more. Call me cynical, but I tell it like it is.

I suffered through three more days in the hospital, undergoing countless tests to determine the cause of my seemingly random nose-bleed. I didn't contract another one, and no cause could be found, so I was deemed fit to leave after five days in the hospital. The accident had happened on Monday, it was hard to believe that it had only been less than a week, it seemed like a lifetime ago. I guess in the face of tragedy, time is irrelevant. I exited the hospital in black leggings and a blue tunic, wheeled out in a wheelchair. Agent's Morgan and Reid were to drive me to an undisclosed location. Undisclosed to me, that is. It was supposed to be a "surprise". I hate surprises.

Morgan sat in the front, driving, while Dr. Reid and I sat in the backseat together, awkwardly. I was feeling depressed at having to say goodbye to Mark, who would stay in the hospital for extensive therapy for quite a while. He had been making remarkable progress, and I was so proud of him. He was still the bright and happy Mark I knew, despite his condition. He really didn't let anything get him down. Much too soon, we pulled up at a large, Victorian style home. I was confused, until Derek opened my door and said "Welcome to your new home."

I had been adopted.

A happy couple came to greet me where I stood, stunned, on the driveway of my new house. The mother walked right up to me and hugged me, gushing. The dad smiled broadly and waved. Right away, I could see the type of people they were; rich, lawyer types who had gym memberships and book club and country-club golf-outings every second Saturday. I looked to Reid in disbelief. Without hesitation, my new parents led me inside. The agents left both of their cell-phone numbers with the couple in case of emergency contact. The lady( I would not think of her as my mother) showed me around the beautiful home with much too much enthusiasm. The living room was expansive, bigger than my old kitchen and bedroom combined. The whole house was very open, with a lot of windows and a lot of accents. An actual large stone fireplace was the centerpiece for the foyer, which only heightened my stereotype for these people. "You have a brother !" The male told me, still smiling that creepy-white over-smile. As if on cue, a small toddler around two or three entered the room. "Now, he's shy, you two will have to warm up to one another." She picked him up, baby-talking to him. "Noah, this is Luka. Luka, this is your new brother, Noah." He reached his arms out for me, much unexpected since it contradicted her statement from moments before. She looked ecstatic as I grabbed him and shifted him to my hip. I loved him immediately, much to my own surprise. He was so good-looking already, with his dad's bright pale blue eyes and sandy-brown hair. His dad retrieved him from me and his mom grabbed my wrist, and all but pulled me upstairs. She opened a door at the very end of the hall, facing the back of the house. "This is your bedroom."

The room was huge, as I'd come to expect. On one side, a monstrous canopy bed was pushed against the wall, the head right next to the window. The view from the large picture window was amazing, a beautiful flower garden looked back at me, complete with stone fountain. The room itself was entirely pale pink with white accents. She handed me a clipboard and left the room, squealing with delight. I looked at the clipboard, on it was a piece of paper. I quickly scanned through it, horrified. It was a schedule. A schedule ! Every minute of every day was planned accordingly. Ballet on Monday's and Wednesday's, Horseback riding on Tuesdays, Piano on Thursdays, and my therapy on Friday's. The whole time I was being given the tour, I had been dying to call Derek and be able to tell him how horrible this place was. I had been COUNTING on it being horrible. But now, as I looked around, I understood. I realized why the wife was so excited to have me; it was now so obvious to me that they had been unable to conceive another child. They had been wanting a girl, but instead they had gotten Noah. Now they had me; I was their miracle. They were just the type of people to want the perfect, all-American daughter. How was I supposed to rip that out from under them ?

"You take as much of the good as you can get, because it doesn't come around nearly as often as it should. 'Cause good things aren't always what they seem. Too much of anything, even love, is not always a good do you know when how much is too much? Too much too soon? Too much information? Too much fun? Too much love? Too much to ask? And when is it all just too much to bear ?"~Grey's Anatomy, Meredith Grey

**Chapter Six- Deja Vu**

I checked the closet, curious. I was not disappointed; staring back at me were mountains of neatly folded jeans, all brand new, in every wash imaginable. Also, sweaters in every soft fabric and every color were hung up neatly, then t-shirts and tank tops as well. There were at least ten pairs of shoes orderly lined up on the floor of the large closet as well. I walked into it, and looked closer at a particular pair of shoes; they were ballet shoes. I sighed, leaving the closet to scope out the drawers to find something decent to wear. A drawer full of jodphurs and ballet leotards and tights, a drawer full of skirts, a drawer filled with pajamas. I couldn't help but laugh at the intimate's drawer, it was filled with lacy panties and sexy bras from Victoria's Secret. I never could have worn that stuff before, shopping with Mark. It was creepy how she knew my size for everything though….I finally settled on some tan cargo shorts that were actually cute, and a tight red tank top. I pulled up a number on my phone, contemplating whether to call it when my "mom" walked into the room. "How do you like it ?!" She inquired excitedly. She looked at my outfit, obviously pleased that I had dressed in my new clothes. "It's really nice…..um, thanks." I said tentatively. "No problem," she said, hugging me again, unexpectedly. "A social worker is downstairs waiting to speak with you, then lunch is at 1:30," she told me, leaving the room. I checked the clock; it was 1:00 now. I smoothed my hair and followed her out, glancing back at my new room behind me as I walked.

The social worker introduced herself as Ms. Maxwell. She seemed really nice, and I began to wish that she was my therapist instead of Dr. Hammon. "Dr. Reid has told me a lot about you," Ms. Maxwell remarked. My stomach fluttered at the sound of his name. I must've blushed, because she smiled knowingly and said, " He's a real cutie isn't he ?" "He's something all right," I said, hoping to come off as indifferent to redeem myself. She filled me in quietly on what I had already guessed, that Mrs. Mason ( my adoptive mother) had been unable to conceive after almost losing Noah during childbirth. The couple desperately wanted a girl, and they had tried for years before deciding to adopt. "You're very lucky that you were adopted so quickly, and that the couple wanted to adopt an older child. It's harder to place kids with good homes after they reach a certain age." She confided to me. I didn't feel lucky, having to start my life over at fifteen, with an entirely new family, but I remained silent. Ms. Maxwell hugged me when she left, leaving me to eat lunch with my new family.

Almost habitually, I stroked Noah's hair as I walked by his highchair. He cooed and reached out for me. I surprised myself with my instincts toward him, I already felt very protective over him. My "dad" started making small talk about the oddity of Noah's behavior toward me, and I nodded and "mm-hmm'ed" appropriately, only half listening. I excused myself as soon as I was done, racing up to my room. I dialed my phone, flopping onto my bed, back against the wall. "Dr. Reid ! I'm so glad you answered. I….I don't think I can do this."

I kept my voice low, almost sorry I had called him. I picked him not only because I was ridiculously attracted to him, but because I felt that he would be the most understanding. Morgan would probably tell me to suck it up, and proceed to tell me how lucky I was. I filled Reid in on the details, and he listened intently. He gave really good advice, telling me that this could only be temporary, and telling me not to think of this as a permanent residence. By the time we ended the phone call, it was already dinner time. Talking for so long had left me really thirsty and pretty hungry as well. I was smiling as I descended the stairs, thinking about Reid's sexy voice.

It felt weird not only to be eating outside on an expensive wood deck, surrounding by flowers and fruit trees, but to be eating delicious food. I had only eaten the bare minimum at the hospital, and only because I didn't want them to insert a stomach tube and feed me that way. I gazed around the beautiful scenery as I ate. I desperately wanted to take pictures; I secretly wanted to become a photographer, but only Mark knew that. And he wasn't here.  
I played with Noah for a while, then watched some mindless ABC Family film with my new family, then went to bed early, around 10:00. I didn't actually fall asleep until much later; I kept replaying everything that had happened up until the accident, trying to determine what the last thing I said to Mark was before we both almost lost our lives.

I woke up and it was still dark, but there was a large commotion ensuing downstairs. I crept out of bed, opening my door a crack, silently being thankful for the location of my room; I could see perfectly down the staircase when looking out my door. The agents were here again ! I strained to hear snippets of conversation, and my heart dropped as I heard "He's coming back for her."

"For we pay a price for everything we get or take in this world; and although ambitions are well worth having, they are not to be cheaply won." ~ Lucy Maud Montgomery

**Chapter Seven- Life's Grievences, Amplified**

Hotch's POV  
I stared intently at the letter in my hand, disbelieving. It was a note from our unsub, stating that he would be back for the girl. It was highly unlikely for this type of unsub to make contact with the authorities, much less return for a victim. He must be outraged, he must have been furious when he heard the news that one of his targets had escaped relatively unscathed. We had no choice, I had to take my agents to her house right now, in order to save her life.  
"Reid, Morgan, follow me." I picked Morgan and Reid not only because they worked well together, but because they seemed the closest to this case, and to the victim. She would be comfortable and trusting with them, and she needed that right now. I showed them the note, and gave them the address of a safe location for the victim. It was similar to the Lila Archer situation; with the victim at risk being taken to an undisclosed location for a while, to ensure safety. Again, Reid would be the supervisor on the case, staying with the girl. I felt that he had done well the last time, and I was willing to trust him again. Morgan would drive them over there, and depending on how long the stay was, bring groceries and other needs as the situation called for.

Morgan's POV

I drove back to the Mason house with Reid in the passenger seat. Hotch had called us into his office around 2:00, alleviating us from our paperwork. Reid was awfully quiet next to me, and I inquired on what was wrong. He shrugged, saying he was 'just tired.' I didn't quite believe him, but I let it go. I pulled into the driveway of the large mansion, sighing. This poor girl, she was already probably battling PTSD, survivor's guilt, and injuries, not to mention emotional strain and trying to adjust to a new family and lifestyle. She was only fifteen years old…

Luka's POV

I shut my door, crying and shaking. My hand clapped over my mouth so I wouldn't make noise, but I was so, so afraid. Fear gripped me like an iron bar, making it hard for me to breathe. What had I done to deserve this ? Surely this had to be some sort of twisted karma, payback for some action committed long ago. I was too scared to even move, suddenly afraid that the unsub would be behind me, or that I would catch a glimpse of him in the mirror. And so I stood, with hot tears streaming down my now pale face, staring at the wood door of my new bedroom, unable to move. I stayed that way until Agent Morgan opened my door and flicked on my light. I hung my head, embarrassed that I was weeping like a baby. He didn't say a word, only walked over to me and tilted my chin up with one finger, wiping away my tears with his thumbs. "Grab a bag and some bare essentials, a couple of outfits, we need to take you where you can be safe, okay ?" I nodded, suddenly self conscious at my choice of sleepwear. I was wearing one of those sleeveless shirts that have the huge openings on the sides that go from your shoulder to your hip, with a sports bra underneath and tiny silk shorts. And they were all pink.

Dr. Reid stood in the doorway of my embarrassing bedroom, talking softly with Agent Morgan while I hastily stuffed some random clothing into a bag. I had only brought a few personal things from my previous house with me, so all I had to pack in the way of creature-comfort was books and dvd's. Morgan slung my duffel bag onto his broad shoulder, and lead the way downstairs. I slipped on some fluffy slippers and followed Reid out the door, of course recieving hugs from my new family. I hoped that now they would be safe…..

I halted outside of the vehicle, realizing how much I didn't want to ride in the car. After my accident, on the ride here, I hadn't thought much about being afraid to ride in the car again. But then, I hadn't known that my nightmare wasn't over. I stood awkwardly outside the SUV, still wiping my tears that wouldn't stop flowing. The late summer night had a hint of coldness to it, the only sign of the impending autumn. I shivered as a chilly breeze seemed to whisper past my bare legs, blowing my light brown hair around my shoulders, bare as well. Derek was putting my bag in the back of the vehicle, and situating something inside. I looked at my feet, wiggling my toes on the rough cement. I hadn't noticed Reid until he touched my shoulder, signaling it was time to depart. I looked up at him with sad eyes, completely mortified at my behavior the whole time I had known him. He probably thought I was a total bitch, not to mention a whiny teenager. My behavior in the hospital had been horrible, then I had called him complaining about the rich new life that had fallen into my lap, and now I was sobbing like I was a seven year old with a skinned knee. My emotions overwhelmed me then; grief, chagrin, pain…. I slowly shuffled towards the car, wishing that I hadn't survived the accident, that someone more deserving at a second chance had.

"It isn't just death we have to grieve. It's life. It's loss. It's change. And when we wonder why it has to suck so much sometimes, has to hurt so bad. The thing we've got to try to remember is that it can turn on a dime. That's how you stay alive. When it hurts so much you can't breathe, that's how you survive. By remembering that one day, somehow, impossibly, you won't feel this way. It won't hurt this much."~ Grey's Anatomy

**Not Your Typical Event, Chapter Eight- Agony**

I climbed into the back of the vehicle once again, seated next to Reid again as well. I folded my legs onto the seat, bringing my knees to my chest and resting my chin on them. I glanced in the rearview mirror at the stitches on my head, because they were beginning to burn. My hip had been throbbing non-stop as well, the huge welt there the size of a baseball and as dark as a plum. I gazed out the window at the bright city lights, so much different from the secluded houses in the neighborhood I had grown up in. I thought of everything I was leaving behind as the car continued on the road, the house disappearing from view. But then I realized; I had nothing to lose.

Spencer's POV

I was doing paperwork at my desk when my phone rang. Who could it be ? The team was all in the bull pen with me, with the exception of Garcia….. I answered it, surprised to hear Luka's voice on the other end. She explained to me that she didn't know who else to call, that she was struggling. I remembered saying those exact words to Gideon once, when I had been suffering from my Dilaudid addiction. But I would have helped her anyway, even if those words hadn't triggered my memory with a flashback.

I explained to her gently that this residence might only be temporary, even though I wasn't sure on that fact. But I knew I had to calm her down before she did something she would regret, and that seemed like the best way to me. We finally ended the phone call at least an hour later. I had gone into the break room for some privacy, but obviously I had had to emerge again sometime. My paperwork was finished, and I had given out some excellent advice. I was feeling pretty good as I procured another cup of coffee, especially when Hotch said we deserved to go home a little early. Morgan, naturally, invited us all out for drinks, and for once, I didn't have to be pressured into coming along. I wanted to.  
The case had been a hard one, but we had done it. We just had to wait for someone to recognize the unsub out on the streets, but Hotch thought we were out of the woods. Surely this type of organized unsub would be gratified by the fame, and his success rate, and he would make a mistake in the near future. I drank only one glass of wine before deciding to head out. I wanted to get home and write a letter to my mother, and my apartment could use some cleaning. I walked through the door of my apartment, setting my messenger bag, keys, gun, and badge on the table near the door. I surveyed my living room and kitchen, deciding to start with the kitchen. I washed the coffee cups piled in the sink, drying them and putting them away, then wiping down the counters and table. I rearranged the scarce food occupying the fridge, before sitting down and writing an exceptionally long letter to my mother. I vacuumed the living room and dusted all of the books on my book shelf. I ordered some take out and sat, eating it, on my couch while watching a discovery channel special. I had had an excellent day, all in all, and I went to bed feeling great.

A phone call in the early AM woke me from my peaceful sleep. It was Hotch; the unsub had contacted the BAU swearing up and down that he would come for Luka and kill her once and for all. I was out the door in ten minutes flat.

I arrived at the BAU to see Morgan looked especially pissed off. I myself, was not happy, not only that Luka was in danger once again but that I had been woken from the only peaceful sleep I had had in weeks. That was the price of a job like this one, I suppose.  
Morgan and I drove in silence to the Mason house. He kept glancing sideways at me, finally asking me what was wrong. I told him that I was just tired, because I was. He didn't seem to buy it, but he let it go. I dreaded having to accompany Morgan inside as he informed the family of the issue at hand. Mrs. Mason looked absolutely crushed, but Mr. Mason's expression was unreadable. I saw a slight movement at the top of the stairs, a door opening. It closed so quickly that I wasn't sure if I had indeed seen it at all.

Eventually I followed Morgan up the stairs, staying behind him as he opened her door and flicked on the light. She was not sleeping as we had expected; instead, she was standing in the center of the room, crying harshly. Morgan approached her and tilted her chin up with one finger, wiping away her tears with his thumbs. "Grab a bag and some bare essentials, a couple of outfits, we need to take you where you can be safe, okay ?" She nodded wordlessly. I stood with Morgan, talking softly while she haphazardly stuffed some clothing into a bag. Morgan slung her duffel bag onto his strong shoulder, and lead the way downstairs. She stood outside of the car as Morgan situated things in the back hatch. I approached her awkwardly, touching her shoulder lightly to signal that we would be departing shortly. She looked so grief-stricken, standing there alone in a town where she knew next to no one, in clothes that weren't hers. She reluctantly followed me into the backseat, and I could see the fear registering in her eyes. I felt horrible that she had to be put through this, riding for hours in a vehicle so soon after an intense car accident that had almost claimed her life. She curled up on the seat, and I couldn't take my eyes away from her bony hip, where a huge, painful looking bruise was visible. It was obviously from the accident, just another painful reminder.

"What's worse? New wounds which are so terribly painful? Or old wounds which should have healed years ago and never did? Maybe our old wounds teach us something. They remind us where we've been and what we've overcome. They teach us lessons about what to avoid in the future. That's what we like to think, but that's not the way it is, is it? Some things you just have to learn over and over and over again."~Meredith Grey, Grey's Anatomy

**Chapter Nine- No Air**

Luka's POV

I slowly drifted to sleep on the car ride to the mysterious location. I concentrated on putting everything out of my mind, and the next thing I knew I was being lulled to sleep by the soft motion of the car. I woke up as we pulled sharply into a driveway, and discovered I had been sleeping with my head on Dr. Reid. I sat up immediately, embarrassed, but he said nothing. I stretched, wincing as my injuries protested. Derek exited the car and opened my door for me, and I stepped out cautiously. The house was big, and ultra-modern, with half of it being glass, which I couldn't comprehend as being 'safe.' It was all white and pale gray. I awaited further instruction, nervously looking around. I jumped a little at a sound in a bush near me, but it was just a small rabbit. Derek, as usual, led the way inside. Reid and I followed, with me in the middle of them. I walked into a brightly lit room, with pale gray, soft carpet, suede gray couches, an adjoining kitchen, and a glass coffee table in front of a stone fireplace. Above the fireplace itself was an expensive looking flat screen television, flanked on either side by beautiful paintings of the ocean. Derek set my stuff down near the couch, and pressed a button. Before my very eyes, every glass window/door began to be covered by a sheet of tough-looking metal. The metal sheets slid down from somewhere near the top of the window. Now the whole house seemed very secure, with no way to see in or enter, besides the front door. Derek gave me a list of safety instructions, which basically detailed that I was not allowed to contact anyone in any way until further notice, not even one of the agents, Reid would be taking care of that. I nodded, feeling a tingle in my nose. I shuffled to the bathroom, and sure enough, my nose had begun to bleed again. I grabbed a wad of tissues and walked back to the somewhat puzzled agents. I flopped onto the couch, sighing. "Should we take her to the hospital ?" Derek was asking Dr. Reid. Reid declined, saying that he could take care of it. Derek must have taken his word for it, because he patted my shoulder softly and left.

I was starting to develop a headache to go along with my nosebleed., already this was not going very well. Reid sat down awkwardly next to me, scrunched in the corner of the couch I was mostly occupying. His gaze flicked to me and I smiled a little, trying to reassure him I was fine. He seemed very nervous, and he kept eyeing my still bleeding nose. After a while I turned on the tv, trying to distract him. It was kind of weird to be sitting in silence with someone you didn't know very well while they stared at you. Also, it gave me the chance to stare back without seeming weird myself. My vision began to blur after a couple hours of television, and I took that as I sign that I was exhausted. I stumbled down the hall to the bedroom to get a blanket, with Reid staring after me of course. Somewhere on the way there, I must have fallen, although I don't remember it. I must be more tired than I realized, because suddenly I was on the floor clutching the doorframe without realizing how I'd gotten there. Dr. Reid appeared at the end of the hall, then rushed over to me. I gave him the same slight smile as before, and struggled to stand up, mumbling an excuse. I grabbed a blanket and walked back to the living room, in front of the agent. I thought about going to sleep in the bedroom, but I was still wary about sleeping in a foreign bed. I lay down on the couch, wrapped in the blanket. As I began to shuffle around to switch positions, I became aware of a strange, vertigo like sensation. I felt odd, dizzy almost. I ignored it and eventually drifted into an odd sleep.

I woke up gasping to a dark room. I couldn't catch my breath, and I couldn't understand why. I was freezing cold, but I was sweaty at the same time. My lungs wouldn't fill with air, my nose was bleeding once again, and I was ridiculously dizzy. I wasn't able to find the words to talk, much less call out for help. I finally realized that it wasn't pitch dark, I just couldn't open my eyes.

Spencer's POV

Luka gradually began to fade into sleep on the car ride to the location. Her head had slowly drifted towards me, eventually she rested her head on me as she peacefully slept. I didn't mind, so long as she got some well deserved rest and quiet. She awoke as we pulled sharply into the driveway, sitting up immediately, obviously embarrassed at her sleeping position. I said nothing. She stretched, visibly wincing. Derek exited the car and opened the door for her, and I stepped out of the vehicle as well. She stood outside the SUV, gazing around uncomfortably. She jumped a foot in the air at the sound of a small animal in some shrubbery near her. Derek led the way inside, and I followed behind Luka. She walked slowly into the warmly lit room that included with soft, light gray carpeting, suede furniture, an adjoining kitchen, and a beautiful stone fireplace. Derek set her bags down near the couch, and pressed a button. Metal sheets slid down over the windows to protect her. Derek gave her a strict list of safety instructions stating that she should not contact anyone under any circumstances. She nodded, the turned and left the room abruptly. She appeared again in a moment, holding a wad of tissue up to her nose, which was leaking blood. She collapsed onto the couch, sighing heavily. "Should we take her to the hospital ?" Morgan asked me cautiously. I denied, I could handle it. Morgan patted her shoulder and waved to me, leaving.

I sat down awkwardly on the couch next to her, intent on not letting her out of my sight. I remembered what had happened when I had been watching Lila, she had put me and herself at risk. This was not going to happen again. I sneaked a glance at her, and she smiled a sad smile at me, obviously trying to make ME feel better. I returned the gesture. Her nose was started to worry me, and I wondered if I should have taken her to the hospital after all. Buck up, Reid, I told myself. She'll be fine, you're overreacting, as usual. She turned on the tv, after many minutes of awkward silence. I tried to focus on the mindless show playing, but my mind and gaze kept wandering back to her. Sometime later, she wandered down the hall to the bedroom, with me glancing curiously after her. A slight thud made me jump up, heart pounding. At the end of the hall I could see she was sitting on the floor, holding onto the frame of the door, looking somewhat bewildered. She forced the same smile as before, and shakily stood up. She snatched a blanket out of the bedroom, shuffling back to the living room. I sat in the armchair directly next to the couch this time, to give her some space. She curled up, wrapping the blanket around her tightly. I watched as she fell into sleep easily, but fitfully. I let myself drift off as well, certain she was safe.

I woke up to the sound of heavy breathing. I flicked on the lamp next to me, horrified. Luka looked so sick, absolutely haggard. Her nose had begun to pour blood again, but her FACE. It was so pale, almost the exact shade of chalk white. It was covered with a sheen of sweat, and her eyes were rolling back, that I could see, even under her eyelids. She was twitching slightly, and gasping for air. I dialed an ambulance without a thought, then Morgan, standing over her, panicked. I felt her forehead, trying to soothe her at least a little. She was freezing cold, and I was frozen in place. At this point, I doubted the paramedics would make it in time.

Vertigo is something other than fear of falling. It is the voice of the emptiness below us which tempts and lures us, it is the desire to fall, against which, terrified, we defend ourselves."~ Milan Kundera, _The Unbearable Lightness of Being_

**Chapter Ten- Where does all the good go ?**

Luka's POV

I was aware of someone standing up and rustling around. They were speaking, but I couldn't understand it. I tried to focus on that, but I couldn't, no matter how hard I tried. The only thing I could focus on was the slight mumbling of Spencer, and my own ragged breathing. How had the hospital not seen this coming ? They were doctors ! How much more could one person take before their body just gave out ? I had already been through two traumas, not to mention the emotional endurance. I honestly didn't think I could take this much longer.

Spencer's POV

I called Derek right away, instructing him to alert Hotch and the others. I nervously waited for the ambulance, never breaking my gaze from Luka. The medic on the phone had instructed me not to touch her, so I stood there nervously twisting my fingers around. A knock on the door told me the ambulance had arrived, so I opened the door for them. Two middle aged men with a stretcher rushed in, wasting no time in lifting her onto the rolling bed and applying an oxygen mask. I rode with her in the ambulance without hesitation, watching silently and cringing as so many needles were stuck into her small body. She didn't move even an inch the entire time.

When we reached the same hospital as before, she was again rushed inside. She was transported to ICU within minutes, and I was forced to wait in the waiting room. I looked around at the faces of the other people sitting there with me, the faces of people I'll never see again. Some hopeful, some fearful, some crying, some stoic. All of them waiting for news that could make or break their lives. I felt almost as if I didn't belong, waiting here for this girl I barely knew. But then I realized, this girl had no one. Her only living relative was paralyzed from the waist down, struggling every day. I prayed to a God I didn't believe in that she would pull through, not only for her sake, but for his.

I sat in a numb, almost unblinking state for who knows how long until my phone rang. I had been instructed to wait at the hospital alone, because the rest of the team was busy with a case. I stepped outside and answered it, it was Gideon. He asked me if I could hold down the fort for a few more hours before him and Hotch got there. I told him yes, and went back inside to wait. I sat there with my thoughts for almost an hour before a doctor came out with a grim expression.

Luka's POV

I felt everything, detachedly, as people around me bustled about. I heard Spencer talking hurriedly on the phone, heard the sirens in the distance. I heard my own ragged breathing, and then the sound of the door opening for the medics. I felt paralyzed as they lifted me onto a stretcher, and then I was in an ambulance again. I began to wish I would just die, it wasn't even worth it anymore. I could already remember the last time I had spent in a hospital and it wasn't pleasant. The only things keeping me alive were the thought of Mark, and thoughts of how much work the team had put into my case. It seemed like they were the only people who did care if I lived or died these days…. I also couldn't stand the thought of the unsub winning, having killed or maimed all of his victims. I couldn't let him win.

I let everything fall out of my mind and just focused on trying to slip into unconsciousness….the body heals when it sleeps, and besides, then I wouldn't have to think anymore. I didn't move, didn't resist as needles poked me and pushed themselves into my body. I didn't care anymore, I just wanted it all to be over. What did I have to live for anymore anyway ?

"I didn't want to wake up. I was having a much better time asleep. And that's really sad. It was almost like a reverse nightmare, like when you wake up from a nightmare you're so relieved. I woke up into a nightmare."  
― Ned Vizzini


End file.
